The Kindness of Strangers
by SprocketcommaJ
Summary: Mako & Bolin survive troubled times on the streets through luck and the kindness of strangers.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:**_ _Canon compliant, as far as I know. Ages 12/14. __I wondered when the last time was that Mako cried. That's how we ended up here. Please accept my sincere apologies. - J_

* * *

"Bo?"

Mako was careful to keep his voice down and his eyes peeled for shop owners. They didn't take kindly to people hanging around their alleyways in this part of town—especially not homeless kids.

Heat shimmered over the streets and Satomobiles behind him as he edged further down the narrow passage. According to the radio, it was the hottest day of the year and he could believe it. He was sweating through his clothes, even in the shade.

"Bolin?" he called again, just as cautiously. "I'm back… You still here?"

"Mako…?"

His brother's voice came from behind a wooden crate leaned at an angle against the wall. Peering critically into the little hollow, Mako cocked one of his sharp brows.

"What are you doing?"

Bolin shrugged, shivering as he crawled out of his hiding place. Dark rings under his eyes made him look even more pale than he was.

"The woman from the fish market came out," he explained. "How'd it go today?"

He leaned heavily against the wall as he stood up and Mako reached out to steady him before taking a deep breath and shaking his head.

"I got a couple rolls, but that's it," the Firebender sighed.

He had them in his pocket, but he left them there. The alley reeked of rotting fish and, starving though he was, he wasn't sure he could swallow anything with that smell in the air. Keeping a light hold on his brother's thin arm, he gently led him toward the street.

"Let's get out of here," he proposed, casting a disgusted glare in the direction of the fish market's dumpster. "How did you stand that stench all day?"

Bolin managed a half-hearted grin as they ambled past. "It wasn't that bad. At least I didn't get hungry…"

Mako's frown deepened, but he kept his mouth shut.

Nearly a month had gone by since his brother's appetite evaporated. It didn't matter what he brought back—kebabs, fruit, bread, even dumplings—Bolin barely touched them. For the past few days, even what little he did eat had come back up. Mako was doing everything he could to help, but between the food and the fever, his little brother's strength was all but gone.

As if to illustrate the point, Bolin missed a step and toppled forward, clutching his brother's shoulder like a lifeline. Only Mako's quick reflexes saved them both from going down hard.

"You all right, bro?" he asked anxiously, sitting Bolin on a stack of broken wooden pallets.

"Yeah," his brother gasped. "Thanks, Mako."

"Don't worry about it," he muttered evasively, wandering to the edge of the shadows. "Just rest for a minute."

There was something too like an apology in the way Bolin thanked him and it brought Mako up short. He had never dealt well with emotions and avoided it whenever he could—they had more than enough concrete problems to keep him occupied—but he filed the moment away in his mind before he pushed it aside. They could deal with it later.

Raising a hand to shield his eyes, he took a step back out into the beating sun.

The heat had done nothing to slow the bustle of the city and foot traffic flowed awkwardly around him as he looked down the street, weighing their options—not that they had many. Bolin clearly couldn't walk anywhere. He hadn't made it ten steps without collapsing. And they couldn't stay where they were, with that dumpster full of fish.

There was only one thing to do.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mako slid morosely back into the alley, meeting an expectant look from his brother with irritation. He let out a slow breath and dropped resignedly to one knee, offering his back.

"Here. Hop on."

Bolin gladly did as he was told, scrambling up with practiced ease and wrapping his arms tightly around his brother's shoulders.

"It's been a while since you carried me anywhere," he noted brightly.

Mako only nodded in reply. It was like Bolin to gloss over the unpleasant details—like the fact that he was only carrying him because he was too weak to walk—but a knot of dread tightened in the pit of Mako's stomach as they started out onto the sidewalk. His brother had lost more weight than he'd thought. Bolin had always been a sturdy kid, having inherited their father's Earthbender build, the broad chest and strong muscular limbs that let him tear chunks out of the ground with ease. But carrying him now, Mako could feel every joint and every rib. There was almost nothing left of him.

Suppressing a sigh, the Firebender picked up his pace, staring deliberately ahead. No one needed to know how worried he was.

"Let's go to the park," he suggested tersely, changing the subject of his own thoughts, and without waiting for an answer turned his steps that way.


	2. Chapter 2

Republic City Park was teeming with people by the time the boys got there. It seemed like the whole city had turned out with one idea in mind. They lined the banks of the streams and huddled around the fountains, desperately seeking relief from the heat. But although the air was cooler there, away from the streets and Satomobiles, with the sun still blazing mercilessly away overhead it remained unbearably hot.

By instinct, Mako gravitated away from the crowds, avoiding the waterways altogether. Quickly cutting across the grass, he slipped into a quiet spot in the shade of an old tree.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he set his brother down and shrugged the sweat soaked shirt loose from his back. There was something about the park that he liked. Being there never failed to put him at ease.

In the city, on the streets, he always felt like an extra piece to a puzzle that had already been completed. He and his brother didn't belong anywhere. Shop owners and police officers were constantly shooing them away, moving them along, even though they had nowhere to go.

But, out here, things were different. Anyone was welcome in the park.

Beside him, Bolin's expression brightened into a smile of his own. It was rare that Mako let his guard down and he was glad to see him relax for once. Breathing in the happy tranquility of the place, he gave an easy stretch and then clapped his big brother cheerfully on the back, breaking the stillness without a hint of hesitation.

"So…! What now?"

The reminder of Bolin's presence brought Mako back to himself.

"Here," he said, pulling a cloth bundle from his pocket. He unwrapped the two small rolls he'd managed to win for the day and held them both out. "Which one do you want?"

The Earthbender snagged the nearest one and plopped down on the ground at his brother's feet, wonderingly turning it over and over in his hand.

"They're not even stale," he marveled, a grin of genuine admiration broadening across his face.

"I know," was the irritable reply. "Stop playing with it and just eat it."

Mako shoved the empty rag back where it came from and grabbed himself a seat alongside his brother on one of the tree's raised roots. He took his time picking the lint off his sad excuse for a lunch and ate as slowly as he could, tearing off one little bite at a time—it was all he'd had to eat all day and all the food he was likely to see before the next morning—but it seemed like it was gone almost before he'd started.

Puny as they were, those rolls had been hard to come by. He'd worked the day at a bakery downtown with the promise of food and money, but when the time had come to pay him, the baker dropped two yuans into his hand and told him to get out of the store. It wasn't half of what they'd agreed to pay and not nearly enough to buy dinner for two people. He had argued with the man until he threatened to call the police, then he'd taken the rolls and run.

It wasn't the way he'd pictured the day going, but he did what he had to do. He refused to feed his little brother out of a dumpster when he was sick.

Brushing the crumbs off his clothing, Mako gave an inward sigh. He didn't see the point in complaining—Bolin was the only person who would listen to him, anyway—but the meal had done nothing to dull the gnaw of hunger and he couldn't help thinking it would be nice to have enough to eat once in a while.

He had no more than finished the thought when his brother tugged lightly at his pants leg and held out his own roll almost untouched.

"Do you want the rest of mine? I'm not hungry anymore."

His tone was almost pleading, like Mako would be doing him a favor by taking his food from him. But the older boy shook his head and pushed it back.

"No. You have to finish it," he insisted. "You didn't eat anything yesterday and the day before that you—"

"But I don't want it. You can have it."

Their contest of wills was brief. One pitiful look from Bolin was all it took to win Mako over.

Scowling his disapproval first at the roll, then at his brother, he snatched the bread and slipped it back into his pocket.

"Fine. I'll hold onto it," he conceded grudgingly. "You can eat the rest later."

"Thanks, Mako."

Grateful relief flickered across Bolin's face and he looped an arm familiarly around his brother's calf.

The Firebender couldn't stifle a groan of exasperation. He dutifully resisted the urge to shake him off, but the day was too hot and the air too still for his brother to be clingy. He was on the point of saying so when Bolin tipped his head back.

"Hey. Can I go with you tomorrow?" he asked eagerly.

Mako's brows drew together uneasily. He missed his brother's help, but Bolin was in no condition to go anywhere—he could barely stand on his own, let alone do anything else. The idea of carrying him all over town was too much. There was just no way.

"I don't know, Bo," he hedged, dropping his eyes to the side. "Maybe in a couple days."

Pouting to himself, Bolin settled his head against his brother's knee. He didn't argue. He didn't even sigh. But the disappointed silence that hung in the air got under Mako's skin faster than any amount of whining could have done.

"What do you want me to say?" he bridled, yanking his leg away. "I can't spend the whole day—"

He never finished his sentence.

With no more warning than a muted whimper, Bolin lurched forward and threw up everything he'd eaten all over the ground. He doubled over as wave after wave of convulsions racked his body, tightening his chest until he could barely breathe. Gasping sobs mingling with the rest as he continued to retch long after there was nothing left.

"Shh. You're okay. You're okay," Mako soothed, helplessly stroking his back. The smell of bile turned his stomach, but he stayed at his brother's side until little by little the heaving slowly subsided.

"You're okay," he repeated one last time. "You done?"

Shivering and covered in cold perspiration, Bolin gave a weak nod. He held his belly as he tentatively straightened up, breathing in broken gulps.

All Mako could do was sigh. The look of reliance and exhaustion in Bolin's eyes as he looked up struck straight to his heart. He knew his brother needed more help than he could give and he had been trying all week to save up a little money—enough for medicine or a doctor—but he hadn't had much luck. Between people ripping him off and the cost of food, he'd only managed to scrape together a paltry three yuans, which wasn't nearly enough for either.

Brushing the damp hair off his brother's forehead, he shook out the frayed rag he'd used to wrap their rolls and carefully cleaned the mess from his face.

"You think you can walk, bro?" he asked gently, already slinging Bolin's arm across his shoulders.

The Earthbender clumsily wiped his nose with the back of his hand and nodded again, struggling to stay on his feet as Mako half led, half carried him to a cleaner and more comfortable seat against the base of the tree.

It didn't take long for the bustle and activity of the park to lift his spirits. Everything seemed to interest him, from children with pets to a hobo making off with a fish. But try as he might, he couldn't get Mako to lighten up again.

There was only one thing on the Firebender's mind. It had been three days since his brother had really eaten anything. And he didn't know what to do about it.


	3. Chapter 3

The shadows slowly shifted around the brothers as the sun advanced across the sky.

All afternoon, Mako ran scenarios one after another, trying to find a way to get his brother the medical attention he needed as soon as possible. He thought through every iteration down to the details, but no matter how many variations he tried, he couldn't get things to come out in their favor.

Close beside him, Bolin drifted in and out of sleep. His attempts at conversation puttered out as the day wore on. There was no point trying to talk to Mako when he wasn't in the mood, so the younger boy entertained himself with people-watching when he was awake and left his brother to his thoughts.

Afternoon faded into evening, slanting the shade away from where the boys sat. It wasn't until he found himself fully under the late rays of the sun that Mako realized how much time had passed. They'd lost almost a whole day and he felt no closer to a solution than when he'd started.

Wearily rubbing his eyes, he stood up and brushed the dirt off the seat of his pants.

"Come on," he prompted, offering a hand to his brother. "We should go."

Bolin listlessly tracked his progress, trailing a vague, questioning look up his arm to his face.

"Can't we just stay here…?" he asked, making no effort to move.

"You _know_ we can't stay here. The cops will chase us off as soon as it gets dark. Now come on."

Mako thrust out his hand more emphatically—a gesture his brother knew better than to refuse—and pulled the unhappy Earthbender to his feet.

Bolin's habit of setting himself up for disappointment strained Mako's patience to the last. They both knew they couldn't stay there, just like they both knew he wasn't strong enough to tag along tomorrow. Even chalking it up to optimism, the fact that he insisted on asking for things he knew he couldn't have was beyond frustrating.

Still, the older boy took a deep breath, quickly tamping down his exasperation as he hoisted his brother onto his back.

"Look, I'll bring you back tomorrow, all right?" he compromised, scanning the area as he spoke. "You can wait here for me."

"Really? All right!"

Bolin chattered excitedly over Mako's shoulder all the way back into the city, laying out all sorts of ambitious plans for the next day. It was just a couple of hours in the park, but he made it sound like he'd won the lottery.

The sheer force of his enthusiasm brought an involuntary smile to his brother's face. It didn't solve their problems, but Bolin was happy, and that had to count for something.


	4. Chapter 4

An old storage space under the back steps of a condemned apartment complex served as the boys' safe house for the night. The building itself was dangerously dilapidated. Holes had rotted straight through from the roof down to the basement and the city had slated it for demolition years ago, but the shed under the stairs was deceptively sturdy.

The exterior wall of the building and the concrete stairs formed the majority of the shelter with a wooden partition covering a third side. Years of neglect had destroyed the door that originally hung over the other opening, but even without it, the place wasn't bad, as far as makeshift houses went.

Protected from the elements and shielded from view, it had become a frequent refuge for Mako &amp; Bolin. It stayed cool in the heat, dry in the rain and, when it got cold, they could even make a little fire without attracting unwanted attention.

In short, it was a perfect hideout and one that they knew well.

Slipping unseen between loose planks, the brothers ducked inside the old construction fence just as the streetlights came on.

"Ooh! And I could do a magic show!" Bolin bubbled as he scooted under the steps and took his usual spot. "People would pay to see that!"

"How are you gonna do a magic show?" Mako objected practically, setting himself up as sentry in the open doorway. "You don't even know any magic tricks."

Bolin shrugged off his skepticism without a trace of concern. "Earthbending. It's easy! I saw this guy at the station a while ago. He did this thing…"

Giving a dismissive shake of his head, Mako rolled his eyes and tuned out the rest. Bolin could say what he wanted, but it was going to take a lot more than a street performance to straighten out their financial predicament.

Life would have been a lot easier if his brother could actually help out. All their best scams were two-man jobs.

Working on his own, it didn't seem to matter whether he lied and cheated or tried to earn it honestly, Mako just couldn't get ahead. There was only so much he could do in one day, be it picking pockets or sweeping out shops. Before Bolin got sick, the two of them together had pulled in three or four times as much as he could alone. Now, even his rosiest projections put a doctor visit at least a month out of reach.

A long silence drew his gaze mechanically toward his brother. He didn't even realize Bolin had stopped talking until their eyes met.

"What?" he asked, coming out of his reverie.

Bolin hesitated, glancing away as he tried to find the right words. His uneasy eyes searched his brother, but whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself.

"You hungry?" Mako asked, eager to break the silence. He started to dig in his pocket for the rest of the roll, but Bolin reached out to stop him.

"No. Mako, I don't want it."

The Firebender frowned doubtfully, folding his arms over his chest. His brother obviously wanted _something. _Shifting gears, he narrowed his eyes.

"Then what?"

"Are we... in trouble...?" Bolin ventured, his fingers tapping themselves apprehensively together.

"We're fine."

"It's just…you seem kind of stressed—"

"Everything's fine," Mako cut him off, sounding more defensive than reassuring. "I just need some extra money for something."

That piqued the younger boy's curiosity.

"Extra money?" he asked, inching closer. "For what?"

Drawing a deep breath, Mako let it hiss out before he answered.

"You need a doctor, bro," he admitted soberly, unsure how his brother would respond.

He had hoped to keep his worries to himself until he had the money to make something happen. It didn't do anyone any good to let Bolin in before then. The last thing they needed was for him to worry, too.

"A doctor?" Bolin echoed, more surprised than anything. "You think it's that bad?"

Distress built on his face the more he thought about it, as though it had never occurred to him before.

Mako was dumbfounded.

"Are you serious? You can't even eat," he asserted incredulously. "What do you think?"

"Uhhh…"

He knew he wasn't in _good_ shape, but he never thought it was anything to be concerned about. They had both gotten sick before and they had both gotten better, without any help. Openly unnerved, Bolin looked to his big brother for guidance.

"Don't worry," the Firebender backtracked, grabbing him by the shoulder. "You'll be fine. We just need to figure out how to get the money."

Bolin brightened slightly, giving Mako a smug nudge in the ribs.

"My magic show sounds pretty good now, huh?" he needled.

Mako rolled his eyes again, but he didn't disagree. At worst, it would keep his brother entertained for a few hours. And if it brought in a few yuans, he had no reason to complain.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning arrived dim and heavy, awash in a wave of heat and humidity. Night had dumped a layer of steamy fog on the city by the bay and turned it into a soupy sauna. Wires dripped with condensation and windows were fogged all up and down the coast. Moisture hung so thick in the air that it dampened the very clothes on people's backs.

There wasn't so much as the hint of a breeze when Mako rolled out, hoping to beat the worst of the heat to the park. He left early, waking Bolin before the streets came to life, and it couldn't have been later than 8 o'clock when they reached their destination, but even so the day was already stifling.

He chose a prime spot to deposit his brother, on the grass near the big fountain. It was shaded—or would have been if the sun could cut through the mist—by a little grove of trees and within easy walking distance of everything a person might need in the course of the day.

"There's a drinking fountain over there," Mako pointed out attentively, wiping away the sweat that threatened to run in his eyes. "Can you make it that far if you get thirsty or do you want me to move you closer?"

Bolin shrugged distractedly. They hadn't been there five minutes but he was already caught up in their surroundings. The birds, the traffic, even the fog all seemed wonderful after where he'd spent the past few days.

"Here's fine," he answered with more animation than the question warranted, drawing a dubious look from his brother.

"Fine, but it's over there," Mako continued. "And here's the rest of your roll. Try and eat some of it, okay?"

"Okay."

"And don't wander off."

"Uh huh."

"Bolin!" Levelling a sharp glare at his brother, the Firebender caught him by the arm, reclaiming his attention by force. "I mean it. Stay around here. I don't want to have to go looking for you again."

Equally exasperated, Bolin dramatically dropped his head backwards and groaned.

"Okay, I know," he agreed dismissively and gently pulled his arm free. "You worry too much."

Mako planted his hands on his hips and sighed, following his brother's line of sight out past the fountain to where people were vanishing and reappearing on either side of a thick fogbank.

"I wouldn't _have_ to if you'd _stay put_," he muttered mostly to himself.

No matter what Bolin said—or how impatiently he said it—Mako knew he couldn't count on him to stay in one place. They'd been through this routine too many times before.

There had been a time when Bolin was too young to help make ends meet and he'd had to stay behind and wait every day. Mako would hide him somewhere and tell him to stay put, and for the first couple of years it had worked just fine. But as he got older and more used to living the way they did, Bolin had started talking to the friendlier shopkeepers instead of hiding from them, palling around with other street kids, exploring whatever neighborhood he happened to be in and venturing farther and farther away from where he was supposed to be. Until one night Mako came back and he was nowhere to be found.

Years passed, things changed and not finding his brother became something of a habit whenever they had to separate, but the memory of that first night never left Mako. No matter how many times he had to stand around and wait or how often Bolin came running back with an apology and an excuse, his first reaction was always of panic. And it wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he blew out a long-suffering sigh.

"Look, just promise me you'll be here when I get back."

A patronizing grin and a pat on the shoulder seemed to put the matter to rest as far as Bolin was concerned. "Yeah, I promise…! I'll be here…!"

Mako growled under his breath, but he let it go. No amount of arguing would change Bolin's attitude. He'd been trying for years and never made progress yet. All he could do was hope nothing went wrong while he was gone.

But as he took his first step toward the city, he hesitated. For all his enthusiasm, Bolin looked so small and fragile standing there alone. If anything _did_ happen…

Clearing his throat, he grazed his brother's shoulder, not bothering to hide his trepidation.

"Bo."

"Yeah?"

"Try not to overdo it with the magic show."

* * *

Republic City's shopping district was a honeycomb of restaurants, stores and open air markets all abuzz with shoppers, merchants and tourists. Food carts and kiosks dotted its sidewalks; Satomobiles hummed up and down its streets; and the place was alive with activity every day of the week from just after dawn until well into the night. There was something for everyone. People from all walks of life, from the richest of the rich to the most desperate street urchins, convened there to find what they needed —and almost no one went away unhappy. Without travelling more than a block, a person could buy an outfit in the latest fashion, consume enough grilled meat to ruin ten new outfits, or lift a purse with plenty of cash to do both.

It was into this bustling center of commerce that Mako disappeared in search of employment.

He moved with purpose, skimming past the morning crowd like it was nothing. His aim was a neighborhood that knew him as well as he knew it, a place where he and Bolin had been something of a fixture in their younger days. Situated a few blocks from the center of things, the buildings were a little run down and the shops a little smaller than what was on the main drag, but he knew if he could find work anywhere, it would be there.

He dove right in full of confidence, asking at every shop, stand and kiosk if they needed anything done—odd jobs, deliveries, anything. He would have scrubbed out dumpsters if they'd wanted him to.

But no one would hire him, even for an hour.

Times were tough, they said. They couldn't spare the expense.

The shopkeepers who knew him by name apologized and asked after Bolin. The ones who didn't shooed him away less graciously. But the story was the same wherever he went.

He pounded the pavement for hours, block after block, mile after mile, but while the neighborhoods changed, the outcome never did.

The fog burned off. The temperature rose. The sun crossed the sky and slid behind the tops of the tallest buildings. And finally, hot, hungry and exhausted, Mako threw himself down on the curb between two parked cars. Rubbing the crease between his brows with one thumb, he snarled out a sigh of frustration. There was no point going any further. If he hadn't found a job by now, he wasn't going to find one.

He could have kicked himself for being so stubborn. Opportunities had passed him by, one after another, all day long and he'd just let them get away—pockets he could have picked, people he could've wheedled a yuan or to out of. He had been so set on finding honest work he hadn't even bothered with anything else.

Now he had nothing. No food, no money, no prospects. And there was no one to blame but himself.

Moodily draping his arms over his knees, he sighed again. He wasn't even sure where he was anymore. The architecture told him he'd wandered into the Water Tribe section of town, but that was about all he could glean.

It wasn't his location that worried him. Mako doubted he could ever really be lost anywhere in the city. "When in doubt head for the bay" was his motto. The problem was he couldn't go back to the park empty-handed. He may not be able to find a job, but he had to at least find something for his brother to eat. He knew the odds were stacked against him. The universe never made things easy. But he still had to try.

Rallying what determination he had left, he raked his eyes from one end of the street to the other, scanning the storefronts.

Shoe repair. Hats. Women's clothing. The greengrocer on the corner seemed a likely target. Bolin had thrown up the last bunch of fruits and vegetables he'd brought back, but even that was better than nothing. Or so he tried to convince himself.

That was when he spotted a noodle shop in the center of the row of buildings opposite.

Sandwiched between two open-fronted stores, it was unassuming and easy to miss—Mako didn't catch it until his second sweep of the block—but its heavy blue entryway curtains and gold-painted side panels gave it a quiet, classy feeling that the rest of the neighborhood just couldn't match.

He recognized the name of it. Shiro Shinobi had mentioned it on the radio—the best seaweed noodles in Republic City.

That was what Bolin needed. If he could keep anything down, it would be soup.

Almost before he knew what he was doing, Mako found himself in front of the little restaurant. It sounded busy inside. Music and conversation mingled with the sounds of dishes. A cool breeze drifted through the open doorway, carrying the scent of cooking broth out to the sidewalk. Everything about the place beckoned him inside.

Only one thing held him back.

The little collection of coins he pulled from his pocket left room to spare in the palm of his hand, looking even more pathetic than he remembered. There was no way he had enough. The radio said the food was affordable, but they weren't working with his budget. Three yuans was barely enough for a street vendor, let alone an actual restaurant.

But Mako only hesitated for a second. Caught where he was between two shades of complete failure, even the glimmer of a third option was enough to compel him to try.

Giving the coins one last wavering look, he closed them in his fist and took a deep breath. Then he set his jaw and went inside.


	6. Chapter 6

A radio on the front counter played an upbeat tune as Mako ducked under the entryway curtains and paused to let his eyes adjust to the dimness.

Narook's Seaweed Noodlery was as small inside as it had looked from the street. But it managed to feel cozy, rather than cramped. Little booths ran the length of the wall to his right matched by a second row of tables down the center of the floor, most of which were occupied. The kitchen stood near the back, sectioned off by a high counter and a ring of curtains, but he could see it steaming away behind them. Somehow, even with that going on and the weather outside, the dining area was impressively cool.

The whole place was decorated in Southern Water Tribe style with tribal patterns in blues and whites accenting the walls, and the owner—a middle-aged Water Tribe man unsurprisingly named Narook—presided over the establishment from his seat beside the radio.

He straightened up when the boy came in, taking an immediate interest in his unfamiliar customer.

"Can I help you?" he asked directly.

Mako cut his survey short, his vigilant eyes making a final pass over the patrons as he crossed the room and laid his coins on the counter with a dull _thunk_.

"I need some soup," he said in an undertone, cringing as he pulled his hand away. "Something that's good when you're sick."

The owner frowned down at the money for an uncomfortably long time. Then he raised a quizzical look in Mako's direction.

He didn't say anything, but that look told Mako all he needed to know.

With a sigh, he dropped his gaze to the floor, fists tightening at his sides as he shrank from scrutiny. Ragged, dirty, underfed and tired, he knew he was a sorry sight and certainly not the kind of customer any self-respecting businessman would want hanging around. The longer the silence dragged on, the more certain he was that he would be turned away and braced for the inevitable.

But to his surprise, Narook let out a slow breath and swept the coins noiselessly off the counter.

"I guess you want to take that with you," he surmised, getting up from his seat. He was halfway to the kitchen before Mako even processed what he'd said.

"I—uh—yes, sir. Thank you," the boy fumbled, trailing a doubtful half-step after him. But that was as far as he dared to stir.

Kindness was, in his experience, a rare and fragile phenomenon. One wrong move, one careless word and he could end up back in the street soupless and flat broke. Just to be safe, he stuck uncertainly where he was, following the proprietor with wary eyes.

When he reached the little set of steps that led to the back of house, Narook seemed to consider something and turned back, rattling Mako's money in his fist.

"Hey, I don't suppose I could interest you in some work," he mused.

Caught completely off guard, Mako opened his mouth and closed it again, raising a bewildered hand to his forehead.

"Really…?"

He was steeled against disappointment, but he wasn't at all prepared for good news.

"It would only be for today," Narook amended. "And I can't afford to pay cash, but I could trade you a couple free meals, if you think that's fair."

As if to seal the deal, he held out the handful of coins.

A job—any job—sounded amazing to Mako after the day he'd had, even one that didn't pay in cash. A yuan saved was a yuan he didn't have to earn back. And the prospect of fresh food was an excellent incentive on its own.

Reclaiming his coins and slipping them into his pocket, he shook the owner's hand with an appreciative smile.

"That sounds great…! I promise, sir, you won't regret it."

* * *

The work wasn't hard. He straightened shelves and restocked ingredients in the kitchen until close. Then after the last customer had gone home, he cleaned the tables and swept out the dining room. It seemed like no time at all before he was sitting in the empty restaurant, with the kitchen silent and the chairs turned up for the night, finishing a plate of cold noodles and waiting on the other half of his pay.

Alone for the moment, he smiled almost imperceptibly to himself. For once, he was glad his plans hadn't worked out. He could never have imagined, when he set out that morning, that he'd end up where he was. He was running a couple of hours late, but it was worth it.

Narook emerged from the darkened staircase with an insulated metal soup canister in one hand and flipped out the lights on the back half of the shop.

"What do you think?" he asked genially, nodding toward Mako's empty plate.

"I never had Water Tribe food before. It wasn't bad."

"That's what I like to hear." With a laugh, the owner set the container on the edge of the table and rapped the side of it with his knuckles. "Here's the soup you wanted. If I was sick, this is what I would eat."

Drawing the container toward him, Mako stood up, channeling a flood of relief and gratitude into a formal bow.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "I know you didn't have to—"

"I don't want to hear it. You earned every drop," Narook interrupted good-naturedly, giving him a rough slap on the back. "You bring that back and I'll give you a refill, huh? Then we'll call it even."

"Call it even," Mako echoed with a grin.

Staying out of the way as Narook took his dishes and finished closing up, he loosened the carrying strap and slung the canister over one shoulder, offering one last nod of thanks to his benefactor, and headed out into the cooling night air.


End file.
